


It's the springtime talking

by CodingGengar



Series: Empty hopes for a northern pack [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodingGengar/pseuds/CodingGengar
Summary: Lyarra Stark convinces her husband to look North, not South. Then, she dies.





	It's the springtime talking

**Author's Note:**

> To be fair, I just want to write Brandon/Barbrey/William, but then plot made its way into my head and this is the prologue of a larger fic :P

He decides one day that mayhaps Maester Walys is too southern to truly understand how the North works. He might have won his Citadel links in History, but the history of the North goes well beyond what is told by Maesters.

  
Rickard paces in his solar, his wife looks at him placidly, already knowing what he will decide. It's her impossibly calm look, those piercing wild grey eyes that tell him the difference of what is wrong and right for their children and the North.

  
"I'm not offering to southern houses," he says finally, defeatedly even if he tries to pretend it's a choice made on his own and not pressured by Lyarra, Brandon and Lyanna. His other sons are either away or too little to understand what he is trying to do, but the others are an opinionated pack of wild wolfs that will, one day, rule the North.

  
"A good choice," it's Lyarra's answer and her approving smile tastes of victory when he kisses her. "I'm sure your eldest will come soon, then, to tell you the name of the girl he wants to marry."

  
Rickard sighs and nods three times. He knows Brandon will choose Barbrey, as the two (and William Dustin) have been inseparable since they were a little more than children running around Barrowton. He has even heard rumours that Brandon isn't only bedding Barbrey, but he chooses to ignore them as he is sure his son is more than capable of father children and keeping the House alive.

  
If not, then Ned will do his duty and step forward, but he rather not have his quiet son in charge of the whole North. He might have a better head for ruling, but he doesn't have Brandon's charismatic personality and a ruler is made of that too.

  
"I'm more worried about Lyanna," Lyarra shares. Her sweet voice breaks the silence Rickard so craves. "She won't let you arrange any betrothals and I'm on her side."

  
"Do you regret marrying me?" Rickard asks. It's a question that sometimes still makes him feel insecure, nervous. Her words about Lyanna make him think on that. Their match, an arranged marriage to make the family tree smaller, was not made out of love but he knows, he feels, it came to be with time.

  
"Not for one second," Lyarra says and stands up. She is almost as tall as he is, like the First Flints' women are. Her dark brown hair gets whiter with each year and Rickard knows she won't be around much. It pains him, but his wife's illness is eating her away and her last wish was to see his ambitions look North, not south. "We were given to each other by the gods to love until our last day."

  
He smiles at Lyarra's gentleness. She isn't always like that, preferring to make lords and ladies aware of her wolf's blood but with him, she shows her gentle side and he loves her for that.

  
"I want you to make Ned come home," she says with words that are heavy with sadness and resignation. They both know why she asks for him.  
Rickard will send a letter to the Vale in the morning. Right now, though, he will spend his time with Lyarra.

 

* * *

 

Brandon has heard of father's plan. He wants to marry him to a southern lady from the Riverlands, a Tully that while beautiful will surely be close-minded. He isn't about to give up what he has here, with them.

  
Barbrey is snoring again, and Brandon will make sure to mock her endlessly for it once she awakes; meanwhile, he will watch her rising and falling chest, wondering if she would be awakened early should he play with her breasts.

  
"Let her sleep, Bran," William tells him, his voice rough and sleepy. He's at the other side of Barbrey, with her pressed against him and his hand on her waist. "She gets angry when she doesn't get her sleep."

  
"She slept plenty already," Brandon says but he doesn't wake her up. "She looks beautiful."

  
"She is beautiful," William agrees, but there is an undertone of doubt Brandon doesn't like and he frowns.

"What's on your mind?"

William takes his time to answer and he does so in his usual, calm manner, but Brandon hears more than William says. Brandon extends his hand across Barbrey and massages William's shoulder.

"What are we going to do?"  


Brandon doesn't need to ask about what. All the North has heard the rumours of Brandon marrying Lord Tully's daughter and William has a right to ask that. It's more than about the two of them, who can get away with their deeds, but Barbrey, a woman dishonoured by her own choice, will not have the same options.

"You want to marry her," Brandon states and it doesn't bother him at all because at least two of the three will always be together, even though he wishes they could be all together. "If she agrees, then I agree. It's also her choice, you know."

William nods. "I know I'm not you, and—"

"Stop," Brandon commands and William does so. His hand cups William's cheek, his beard is softer than Brandon's own, and just a tad shorter. He caresses his brown hair and his plump, pink lips. "You are William Dustin, and Barbrey and I know that. We like you because of who you are."

He doesn't say I love you. He never has and doesn't know if he ever will, but he knows he does. And they know too because he makes sure his actions speak what his lips can't.

At that point, Babrey opens her eyes. They're soft with sleep but already piercing and Brandon moves to kiss her forehead. She smiles and wiggles to put her back to Brandon and have William kiss her too.

"I love you both," she says with her dry, grave voice.

Somehow, that settles it for now and they begin to prepare for the day. Barbrey will have to be smuggled into her own bedroom and Brandon and William will appear later, washed and with fresh clothes. No matter that the whole castle knows what they did last night.

 

* * *

 

 

It's suspicious when his father's letter arrives. Usually, it's his mother or little Ben who write to Ned but he's not complaining. He knows Brandon is wild and Lyanna wilder, and they hold no love for ink and quill. Still, he wishes he had never come south to the Vale, for as much as he loves Robert Baratheon like a brother and Jon Arryn like a father, Ned already has a family whom he loves.

  
Then, he opens the letter and he worries more. Father says Mother wants him home.

  
Ned knows both his parents. Lord Rickard is hard and Lady Lyarra wild. They are the strong leaders of the North, and so Ned knows something is wrong. His father is not his mother's page to be writing her letters for her.

  
Her mother, Ned guesses, must be ill. Gravely, if she's asking for him to go home permanently. That worries him even more.

  
He packs his belongings even before going to Lord Arryn. If he asks first, Robert will catch word and Ned is not ready for what Robert might say, what Robert might do. His own mother died not many moons ago and his friend still mourns her and his father, even if no one else knows but him.

  
The day isn't over and he is already at the Gates of the Moon with the intention of travelling to Gulltown, from then on to White Harbor and finally riding the way to Winterfell.

  
The surprising thing is that Robert is going with him.

  
His friend is in the room across the hall, bedding a serving maid that even Ned considers beautiful, but not enough to dishonour her and himself with misdeeds. He doesn't judge Robert even though Lord Jon taught them the same.

  
Right now, he's worried about his mother and his siblings. Brandon, wild at heart, will no doubt be raging instead of caring for her. Lyanna would try, but his sister is eleven and still a girl in all the senses of the word. Little Benjen, not yet eight, will be confused.

  
Or so he thinks, Ned muses because he has spent three years away from his siblings and doesn't know them as well as he wishes to.

  
His brother might be an honourable man by now, learning all he can to rule the North when the time comes. His sister might have settled into a ladylike soon-to-be-woman, helping around the Castle to alleviate their mother's burdens. Benjen might be a sweet boy, dutiful and caring.

  
Ned sits on the bed and falls back with eyes closed and memories of the people his siblings were three years ago. Not the same people, surely. And he regrets not being there, not being North, not being home, but he is dutiful and he minds his father's words and listens to his commands. Ned is nothing more than a second son who tries to be a source of pride for his parents.

  
What good does it do, if he isn't as carefree as Brandon or Robert, as happy as Benjen, as child-like as Lyanna? Ned doesn't blame his siblings for his father's decisions, but he wishes it wasn't him the one fostered outside the North.

 

* * *

 

"Heed my words, daughter," Mother tells her with a condescending voice that infuriates Lyanna to no end, "and mind your father's as well. Remember you are a daughter of the North, a Stark of Winterfell, who must do her duty for the sake of herself and her House."

  
Lyanna nods, though she finds all these lessons boring and useless. Her only duty will be the song of a sword and the weight of a lance, if she can, somehow, advance further than beating Benjen with sticks. She won't need embroidering lessons or skirts made of silk and velvet, but boiled leather and ringed mail like Brandon's. Her love will be the freedom of riding through Westeros, helping those in need. But she can't tell that to her mother, not yet because she still can be sent away to some lord.

  
No, she will bid her time and wait until her skill with sword and lance can be proved against opponents of all types: she'd beat Brandon with his longsword and the Mormont women with their maces, she'd be the best in archery and the champion in tourneys. Then, she'll tell her father she doesn't wish to marry, much less a southern lord like he wants her to.

  
"Come here," Mother says and Lyanna steps into her embrace. It's warm, and the frustration leaves Lyanna as she lets her mother hug her. "Someday you won't have your father and me to guide you, Lyanna, and you will have sons and daughters of your own. Never let them forget that being together is important. And don't forget that, while bearing children is a duty, it's also a source of great happiness."

  
Lyanna doubts so because her mother looks so sad these days. Brandon always makes her smile when he's around, but he's in the Rills right now, riding all day and night with William Dustin. She wishes she could be Brandon, not only to be free but also because no matter what, she can never make Mother smile like he does.

"Can I ride now?" she asks and her mother's eyes turn pensive again but she nods and lets her go.

  
Lyanna promptly takes off the skirts of her dress in her room and is left in Ned's old breeches. Her riding boots are clean and ready, and she runs out of the castle and into the stables. She saddles her mare, Windy, with haste and rides out of the castle. The nearby fields are covered with snow from yesterday, and she guesses there are only a few hours left until the dark clouds let the new snows fall.

  
She smiles. Winter is coming to an end sooner than she had thought, with only a year or two left. There will be leftover grains and cold meats, which means a Spring Festival in Wintertown. She is excited, even though the notion is but a dream of spring and winter still sits over the North.

  
In truth, Lyanna loves the winter. She has faint memories of the summer sun peeking out from the clouds and how her mother would open the windows of the Castle to let the wind come in, cooling the air and refreshing them all. Winter, with the snow and ice and the beautiful blue roses, is much better.

 

* * *

 

Lyarra is happy. Her two eldest sons are home, Brandon with William Dustin at his side, and Ned with a Lord Robert Baratheon by his. Still, she notices the differences between the friendships. While Ned is close to his friend, Brandon and William seem to be one, and she has to smile at the happiness in all their eyes, even if inside she's in pain.

  
The illness, as the healer from Wintertown predicted, is worsening. Her heart beats quicker than normal in her chest and she is left out of breath soon enough, but she cares to hide it from her family, at least for the feast tonight.

  
Rickard is talking with some of his bannermen, Lord Ryswell among them, and Lyarra hopes he is brokering a marriage between her Brandon and that wild Barbrey that sometimes reminds Lyarra of herself in her youth, with her bold smiles and hard stares for those she dislikes. She has no doubts that, if Brandon and Barbrey marry, they will be a great Lord and Lady, because where her son is hotheaded, she has seen the cool cleverness of Barbrey's eyes.

  
Lyanna is with said girl, but she pays no mind to her or her sister Bethany and instead talks with Benjen and Jonelle Cerwyn. Lyarra smiles fondly but wishes her daughter will open up to new people, new experiences, instead of clinging to those she knows. Benjen, while a good brother, is not the only company Lyanna should have, and Jonelle, while a lady at twelve, will submit to whatever Lyanna says and won't leave a lasting impression in her. No, Lyanna needs more girl friends who can share with her the wonders of a life as a lady of the North.

  
Lyarra somewhat blames Maester Walys for Lyanna's dislike of everything ladylike. After he and Rickard begun their thankfully forgotten scheme to wed Lyanna to a southron lord, the girl begun to rebel against feminine pursuits that she once enjoyed, like embroidering and singing. She kept her fondness for knight's tales and love stories, and Lyarra hopes that doesn't hurt her in the long run.

  
Ned is silent. Lyarra sees that her son will be more like her goodfather Edwyle than like her own parents, wilder and louder. It's Lord Baratheon who laughs for both of them, but she can see clearly that Ned is happy. Perhaps he will be happier now that he will be allowed to stay.

  
And Benjen, little Ben who idolises her older brothers and her sister more than anyone else, smiles like the sweet boy he is. He is the one who worries Lyanna the most because, when she dies, he will have only Old Nan for a motherly figure and, while the old woman still has it in her to be strict, it won't be the same. Who will tuck him into bed every night? Who will sing to him when he gets sick? Who will make sure he stays sweet for all his life?

  
Lyarra stands up from the table as desserts are brought and disappears into the halls of Winterfell. She presses a hand to the warm rock walls and feels the rush of water of the hot springs clearing her soul of worries. She goes to sleep wishing this won't be her last night, thinking of Rickard and her in their youth, of the happiness of holding Brandon for the first time, of Ned following Rickard around the castle, of Lyanna when she learned to ride, of Benjen sharing honeyed oats with her and—

 

* * *

 

Lyarra's funeral is not sad at all. Everyone present was surprised that all arrangements have been made and Lyarra is laid to rest two days after the welcoming feast for Brandon and Ned. Rickard's children are behaving themselves and they are cracking jokes he remembers Lyarra telling them as kids, they are sharing stories of Lyarra and their childhoods, and when Benjen starts weeping again Ned takes him to the godswood and Rickard looks at them go, wondering if Ned grew up in the last two days or maybe in the three years he spent in the Vale.

  
Brandon is holding William's hand in her left hand and Barbrey is stuck to his right hand. Lyanna is telling Lord Baratheon of that time she and Lyarra went riding and her mother saved her from falling into the freezing White Knife. And then there is Maester Walys, already saying how sad a moment like this, how much Lyarra must have wished to see her sons and daughter married well and how she will be proud of whatever choice Rickard makes.

  
Rickard has already made his choice, but that night after two flagons of wine by himself, he thinks of the North and all that the Riverlands and the Vale can give. And, when he looks out of the window and sees Lord Baratheon standing there with Ned and Benjen, he thinks of expanding further south. Springtime is near, and the stores of Winterfell are still almost full. They will endure, and with the Vale, the Riverlands and the Stormlands, the North will stand greater than ever.

  
Lyarra, now bones and dust, screams into the void.


End file.
